


Big Hands I Know You're the One

by rabidchild67



Series: Five Times... [16]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal, traveling in Europe, gets lonely for his lovers. </p>
<p>Yet another fill from MMoM, 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Hands I Know You're the One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of my Five Times ‘verse, but can be read standalone. For the purposes of this story, the anklet has come off and Neal has decided to leave the FBI for a job at the Lampton Gallery, but not before a long-planned trip through Europe.
> 
> Title is, of course, a lyric from the song "Blister in the Sun" by Violent Femmes.

Neal stared down at _Las Ramblas_ , watched as people – mainly tourists at this time of the afternoon – went about their business along the famous _avenida_. He’d just arrived in Barcelona the night before, and had spent the morning wandering the city’s _Barri G_ _ò tic_, finally ending up as he always did at the old cathedral. After lunch, he returned for _siesta_ to the little boutique hotel he’d found and stood now, at his window, restive and with a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

He’d thought a trip through Europe would be enjoyable – a chance to revisit old haunts now that the anklet was off and he was free – but lately he’d found himself feeling not a little melancholy. Wherever he went, he didn’t find the pleasant diversion he’d expected in reliving old times and old capers, but rather disappointment that he couldn’t share it with a certain couple he’d had to leave back in New York.

Elizabeth and Peter had been unable to get time off to accompany him, and he found he missed them more each day. He had been sending them pictures and emails almost daily, but he realized they couldn't compare with having them both at his side. He longed to hear the way Elizabeth moaned with pleasure when she tasted something extraordinary, and see the way Peter’s brow knit together when he closely inspected a sculpture or a painting. And in this city of great restaurants and even greater art and architecture, Neal was finding there was so much he wanted to share with them both.

Neal sighed, glimpsed up at where his hand held the curtains back. He had an abrasion along his knuckles from where he’d scraped them against a wall somewhere – he couldn’t even recall, but it reminded him of something. He pulled his hand closer and stared at it, the rough edges where the skin was torn, and had a brief flashback of Peter’s hands the last time he’d seen him, over a month ago.

It was the night before Neal was to leave for his trip and they’d ordered pizza and drank too much red wine. As Neal whipped up a chocolate fondue at the stove in the kitchen, Peter had entered behind him to open a third bottle of wine. While Neal stirred the cream and chocolate together, he felt Peter’s hands rest lightly on his shoulders and he pressed a kiss in the space just behind Neal’s ear. Switching off the stove, Neal turned and leaned into Peter, who put his hands against Neal’s face, his fingers trailing in his hair as they kissed.

Neal loved Peter’s hands, loved to look at them, loved the feel of them on his body. They were broad, thick-fingered, the skin on his knuckles perpetually nicked up and chapped because he was always fixing things around the house or working in the garden, and yet he refused to use the lotion that Elizabeth had gotten for him. She’d bought it special – it was supposed to be for fishermen or something, with no perfume so he wouldn’t complain about it smelling like a girl – but he kept forgetting to use it. Neal didn’t mind, though, because Peter’s hands were a study in contrasts. Despite the roughness on the outer parts of his hands, his fingertips were wide, always soft, and he touched his lovers with such lightness it was like a butterfly, or a feather. But they were also sensitive and he felt everything, from the knots in El’s shoulders as he gave her a massage after a long week to the goose bumps he’d raise along Neal’s arms every time he kissed him on that spot just behind his ear.

Neal’s cock gave a twitch as he remembered Peter’s hands on his bare skin, and he reached his own hand down and gave it a warm squeeze.

Peter’s hands weren’t the only ones he enjoyed, he reflected as he idly caressed a burgeoning erection through his thin linen trousers. Elizabeth’s were also tiny marvels to him. They were fine-boned and always soft, as if she kept them perpetually sheathed in fine cotton gloves or something. They were expressive hands, grabby but not grasping; quick with a smack across the shoulder when she was riled up or laughing hysterically, an arm-rubber when people were upset or in need of comfort.But they were also practical hands - regularly plunged into the soil in the garden, planting bulbs or pulling weeds; equally at home washing the dog or soothing a fevered brow. Elizabeth’s hands also telegraphed her mood; she picked at her nails when she was unsure or nervous, waved her hands around to illustrate her points as she talked on the phone with a vendor. A single snap of her fingers kept Satchmo in line. And the memory of her fingers flicking at her clit while he or Peter fucks her is enough to make Neal’s cock twitch. Again.

He crossed over to the bed and sat down on it, leaning back against the pillows with a sigh. His hand rested in his crotch and he began rubbing himself lazily, his cock expanding from his efforts, but thinking of Elizabeth, his heart was suddenly no longer in it.

He’d planned this trip almost since the day Peter had gotten him out on his parole agreement four years ago. He’d booked his flight nearly six months ago, planned an itinerary, researched hotels. And then the one thing he’d wished but never dared hope for happened, and Peter told him he had very deep feelings for him, feelings well beyond the friendship they’d been sharing. Up until that point, Neal had conned himself into believing that all it ever could be was friendship, had resigned himself to it, in fact. So when Peter admitted his feelings, and even more incredibly, the fact that Elizabeth felt the same way ( _Elizabeth_ – he’d loved her even before he fell for Peter), it was at once the most wonderful and terrifying thing that had happened to Neal in a long time, and possibly his entire life. It had taken a bit of negotiation, and Neal – surprising himself more than anyone – had turned out to be the skittish one. But once they had figured it out, it was so right and he felt like maybe this could be the defining relationship of his life.

But then, he’d already planned this European trip and Peter told him he ought to go, that he ought to take advantage of his freedom and do all the things he wanted to before starting his new life and career. Neal wanted Peter and Elizabeth to come with him, had even offered to pay, but neither could get away from their professional commitments, so Neal went alone.

He’d spent two weeks with his mother’s family in County Antrim in Northern Ireland, meeting aunts, uncles and cousins he didn’t know he had. This was followed by a week in Scotland and England, then Florence, Rome and now Barcelona. He was supposed to finish up with two weeks in Paris, but he didn’t know if he’d really enjoy it. It was no good – none of it was any good without Elizabeth and Peter to share it with.

He sighed heavily, rose and crossed over to the desk, where his mobile phone, passport and travel documents sat, and made the decision to get on the next flight home. This trip had been no good – he was no good, being away from home and all the things that had come to mean so much to him. He wondered what Neal Caffrey circa 2009 would have thought of this version of himself. No doubt he’d laugh hysterically.

Neal sat at the desk and picked up his phone, dialing the number for international flights, when there was a knock at the door. “Just a minute,” he called, thinking it must be the maid. He disconnected the call, tossed the phone on the bed and walked over to the door. He paused, made sure his shirt hung down to cover the still-apparent hard-on he was sporting, and opened the door.

“Hola, mi amor!”  
  
The Burkes stood there in the hall, large smiles on their faces, and Neal was so surprised, so shocked to see them that he could feel the color drain from his face.

“Peter. Elizabeth,” he said, completely stunned.

The expression on his face must have seemed anything but happy, because a disappointed look crossed Peter’s face then. “Aren’t you happy to see us?” he asked.

But Neal was so overjoyed to see them, he was actually speechless. He stepped forward, took Elizabeth into his arms and held her against himself so tightly, she nearly couldn’t breathe.

“I think he’s happy to see us, hon,” she said, her voice muffled by Neal’s chest.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” Neal whispered happily into her hair and squeezed her even tighter, then let her go and reached an arm toward Peter, to include him in a three-way embrace that lasted for several moments. When they parted, Neal had tears in his eyes.

“Is everything OK?” Elizabeth asked, concerned by his reaction.

“Of course, of course. I was just feeling a little bit blue without you, and now, here you are. This is – well, you’ve made my day!”

“Aw, baby!” El chirped and threw her arms around his neck.

When they parted, Neal helped Peter haul their luggage into the tiny room. “What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t get away.”

“Well, we decided it was high time we took a vacation, and this was just the excuse we needed,” Peter answered. “Besides, we couldn’t let you have all this fun in Europe without us.”

“Nothing’s fun,” Neal said with a grin, “not without you,” and kissed each happily in turn.

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
